Chapter 4 - The Horrifying Truth
The audio file was dated three months ago—the night before I supposedly suffered my "miscarriage."
"Are you sure the dosage won't leave a trace?" Jared’s voice came through the speaker, tight and nervous.
"It’s a specialized synthetic compound, Jared," a doctor’s raspy voice replied. "It mimics natural placental abruption. To any ER physician, it will look like an unfortunate, spontaneous loss. She’ll never know the prenatal vitamins you were giving her contained it."
My breath hitched. My hand flew to my mouth to smother a gasp.
I hadn't lost my baby to natural causes. He had poisoned me.
"And the secondary phase?" Courtney’s voice chimed in, cold, calculating, and completely detached. "Once the pregnancy is terminated, we move forward with the hysterectomy. We can't risk her getting pregnant again later and claiming a share of the family trust."
"Is it necessary to take the entire organ?" Jared hesitated on the recording, a faint tremor in his tone. "She... she loves children, Courtney."
"Don't get soft now, Jared!" Courtney snapped. "Her father’s trust stipulates that if Shelby dies or becomes permanently incapacitated without a biological heir, the voting rights of Harlan Media pass entirely to her spouse! If she has a child, that child gets a trustee guard, and you get pushed out! My child needs to be the ONLY heir!"
Silence stretched across the recording for three long seconds before Jared answered.
"Fine. Do it. Make sure the surgeon writes up the cancer report."
I dropped the reader onto the desk, my legs giving out beneath me. I collapsed onto the Persian rug, clutching my stomach as dry sobs wracked my body.
It wasn't just infidelity. It wasn't just corporate greed.
It was attempted murder, forced sterilization, and a cold-blooded conspiracy to steal my father’s legacy. My miscarriage hadn't been a tragedy; it had been an execution planned by the man who kissed me goodnight every evening.
The front door chimed downstairs. Nurse Clara had arrived.
I wiped the tears from my face, forced my trembling body off the floor, and retrieved the reader. The sadness inside me died right then and there. What took its place was a sharp, unyielding rage.
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They didn't just want a war. They had started one.
And I was going to finish it.
